


Sentinel in the Desert

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Community: tf_speedwriting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-23
Updated: 2011-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus Prime reflects in the desert</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sentinel in the Desert

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set at some indeterminate point after the end of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen, but there’s nothing particularly spoilerish hereon in. Written for tf_speedwriting’s prompt post [dated 22-OCT-2011](http://tf-speedwriting.livejournal.com/373128.html).
> 
> Prompt chosen : #3: Setting: Midday in the Desert
> 
> Time taken: 30 minutes

Optimus Prime stood alone, a singular sentinel amidst a desolate sandy landscape. Surrounding him, the shifting sands of the Mojave Desert shifted in the midday sun, whipped up into little eddies by occasional flurries of wind. Some of the grains of sand shored up against the Autobot’s massive feet, blowing and sticking to wherever it could reach upon his great iron body. Some sand grains blew into his ocular cavities in annoying gritty pieces. He purged every single last one of them, irritably, finding the minor distractions more annoying than they should have been.

Far off into the distance, he could hear the whining drone of a motorcycle, eating up the miles on Route 66, coming closer still. The giant mechanism listened, yet knew that it was just an ordinary bike, not one of the Autobots he counted as friend or ally. He sighed and shifted his expansive attention elsewhere, eyes moving across the horizon without focussing upon the immediate view. Instead his attention was focussed elsewhere, senses far ranging and wide-spread, zoning in on every sound that he heard, just in case of trouble.

He heard the sound of Ironhide bemoaning something indistinct to Jazz and the sounds of Bumblebee attempting to repair his damaged vocal systems. It didn’t sound as though Bumblebee was having much luck, considering the protracted amount of cursing sound bites lifted from various songs and movies interspersed with odd bits of squealing static. Optimus sighed, yet continued his scans ever onward and outward. He turned the glowing blue orbs of his eyes downwards, watching as the bike he’d heard earlier whizzed past some few miles distant, unheeding of the giant Autobot that stood constant sentinel in the midday desert.

“Travel safe, little human,” Optimus murmured, even though there was no hope of said human even hearing him

That was part of Optimus’ job, to ensure the safety of humanity against harm and war brought down upon their heads via the Decepticons. They’d already averted that outcome, by near misses on two occasions, and Optimus had been clinically dead, in human terms, during part of the recent skirmishes.

It was only through the help and unimaginable bravery displayed by the boy, Sam Witwicky, and, his girlfriend, Mikaela Barnes, that Optimus had even survived. By proxy, humanity had also survived. Optimus reached out still further and traced the life patterns of Sam, singling him out as being at his parents’ home. Sam was feeding his dog, whilst cursing his mother over once again placing a diamante studded pink collar around Mojo’s neck. Optimus remembered Mojo, that tiny yapping thing that Sam seemed, bizarrely, quite fond of. An amused chuckle rumbled in Optimus’ chest at the boy’s antics, as he wondered at humanity’s obsession over dogs that leaked fluid over prime targets. In that, things never changed, and Optimus was glad for that.

He turned his attentions further afield, triangulating the area and searching for possible Decepticon attacks. The skies remained clear and the cities surrounding the Mojave remained undisturbed. Still, Optimus waited, under no illusions that the peace would be withheld. The Decepticons would no doubt return and so, Optimus remained, waiting for them. His was a solitary figure in the desert, windblown, sun baked, dusty, as he performed scan after scan, ensuring the Earth remained safe from threat for a brief while longer.  



End file.
